


Runaways

by muaaimoi



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Street kids AU, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:04:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muaaimoi/pseuds/muaaimoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a street kid AU. There are issues and Avengers but they all turn out okay anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1.

They don't talk about the past.

In fact, as far as most of them are concerned, they don't really have one. It's better that way; they're all full of sharp, jagged edges and somehow it's easier to avoid sore spots when you don't know what they are. Not that it keeps them from going off anyway. For kids like them, too young, too smart, way too independent. Far too alone, if at least not as lonely, not anymore. They're all still far too... broken. Fragile really.

Sometimes it takes nothing at all, and they snap. Raw wounds open for the world to see.

Sometimes Bruce will flip out, break things and shout about monsters and his dad. 

Sometimes, Clint will fill up the dart boards of their hole of an apartment with everything he can get his hands on, knives, thin strips of wire, broken arrow heads, he'll just throw things, anything, and he'll do it for hours. He'll be quiet for days after, silent, not like their quirky, sarcastic little Clint in the least.

Sometimes Natasha mutters to herself in Russian, kicks the crap out of their overly patched up sand bag. Steve doesn't blame her, he does the same, only sometimes instead he'll haul up in a corner and draw. He won't move for hours, not until he has to or he's finished, the thing is, he's never finished.

Thor does that too, the not moving for hours bit, not the drawing. He has this thing in his wallet, Steve's pretty sure it's a picture. And he'll stare at it, silent. A silent Thor is a heart wrenchingly sad Thor. Tony is the weirdest of them all, and that's because he does the normal things. Tony get's drunk, he goes out finds someone to fuck stupid, or someone to fuck him. Steve doesn't know. All he knows is that sometimes Tony disappears for a few hours and comes back smelling like sex and booze.

No one asks. This thing between them, this feeling of home, of certainty, it's too new to be trusted, too nice. It's best not to mess with it. So no one asks, even when they're dying to know. Especially not when they're dying to know. It's not worth the risk.

Steve doesn't know how they all fell on together. Not exactly.

He was the first though. He's mildly sure of that. Him, and then he'd run into Tony on the subway. They'd started to talk. Or rather Tony had, and then basically never stopped. Steve had waited, nervous, the first few days. Waited for Tony to go, to have somewhere to be, remember he had someone who worried. To ask. But Tony never did. So that happened.

They were the first. Not necessarily together, not really. Just not so apart, not so alone anymore. They didn't have anywhere to call home, they just... had each other, sometimes.

They stayed on the same subway lines, took turns sleeping on each other. Helped each other out anyway they could. Tony knew this guy who'd let them shower at a gym, Happy, the guy, even let him use some machines. Steve introduced Tony to Dr. Erskine, he gives them money for moving medical supplies. It keeps them fed.

They run into Clint and Natasha one day at central park. They're performers. Clint spears an apple with an arrow on Natasha's head while she backflips off a tree. It's a pretty cool act. 

They're close the way he and Tony are. It takes them longer to warm up to each other though. They're weary of each other, of the easy way they click, but there's a pull to the feeling. For a while, they orbit around each other.

But they come together eventually. They just fit. Edges aligning like puzzle pieces.

Steve learns to trust that Clint will never miss the way Natasha does, so sometimes it's his head an apples speared on. And sometimes it's all three of them, Natasha teaches him martial arts, and their free for all brawls and pretty and scripted. Tony makes him and Clint take off their shirts , Steve's embarrassed at first, but the money Tony collects goes up after that. 

Then again, Steve's not sure how much of that is seeing two shirtless guys, and how much it's just Tony getting better at getting people to cough up money.

Tony's handsome, and so easily charismatic, basically charming, people just want to give him things, all the time. Steve knows. He's been to flea markets with him, and Tony always walks away with some free stuff. Steve doesn't know how, but he teaches Natasha to do it too. It's a useful skill, but one he's no good at. He sucks at lying, always feels like a hippocrate with false words in his mouth. So instead he learns to be personable, distracting people with a pretty, engaging smile so Clint can rob them blind.

It's called team work. Or at least that's what he tells himself when he begins to feel bad for pulling a con. No matter how Clint and Natasha prefer to call them ops. They're not. But it's not like they have much of a choice. Being a street kid is hard, they're too young to beg for petty cash, if anyone realizes their homeless they're more likely to call child services than help them out. And he doesn't even like to think of the alternatives, falling into a gang, prostituting themselves, compared to that stealing is better, much better. Besides, it's hard to complain about doing anything that helps them stay together.

Natasha's the one who finds Bruce. She just shows up with him one day, their camping out on a playground because it's oppressively, awfully hot, and they need all the water the water fountain has to offer. Bruce is wearing a sweater. Steve catches the hint of bruises on his arms when he lays down and knows better than to ask. But he's one of them after that, so he watches over him when he falls asleep on a bench in the subway, and he makes sure to keep an eye on him when he goes picking fights. Bruce is a berserk. You wouldn't think of it looking at him, delicate and frail, patched up glasses perched precociously on his face, his huge green hoodie that swamps him. But he never goes down. Steve has watched him take on guys twice his size with something akin to jealousy and he never needs to step in. He wants to, sometimes, but he's pretty sure Bruce needs it, needs it the way Steve needs to lift weights at the gym sometimes, and the way Clint gets twitchy if he hasn't hit a bullseye in a few hours, or Natasha when she hasn't sparred with anyone. And Tony, chronically tinkering with a beat up laptop he magically makes work even though Steve hasn't seen him charge it once.

Bruce is also the reason he finds out Tony's smart.

Not that he hadn't known. Tony talks too well, and too fast, he's too quick with ideas, brilliant and stupid ones alike. He's never not witty and it's impossible not to know that Tony's smart. But listening to him and Bruce talk about particles and science stuff that doesn't even sound like it's in English? That's something else.

Somehow that's how they meet Thor.

Tony and Bruce had dragged him to the library to talk more science stuff and they'd run into Thor, sulking by the door. They had gone for pizza, Thor had treated them. They finished four pies between them.

He'd just never quite left after that. Thor was good for food, he'd leave for a while and come back with arm loads of junk food, pop tarts, little Debbie snacks, even coffee. Great coffee too if the way Tony promised to have his first born was anything to go by. Clint had seconded that. Natasha had simply told him that he'd never had to worry about enemies again. Bruce had sworn his loyalty and servitude to Thor's kingdom. Steve wasn't that big a fan of coffee, but his friends ran on the stuff so he kept that opinion to himself.

Even if Thor had clearly been read one too many ye old Harlequin romances as a child, with the way he spoke. At least according to Clint, anyway. Steve personally thought Thor was a foreigner who learned English off historical dramas on tv. That had been Tony's theory, and just slightly more reasonable than Clint's. It wasn't like anyone was about to ask Thor. 

They knew better.

Still, that was a good day, a fond memory.

It was when all of then clicked, One became two, Two became four, five sort of happened and one giant makes six. They were family.

So when Steve turned sixteen, he'd begged Dr. Erskine to sign off as guarantor for a lease. Tony did something complicated with a computer and suddenly he had ID's and stuff proving he was twenty. So did Thor, but he was suppose to be twenty three, fortunately he looked it, even if he was apparently a year younger than Steve, he was still the biggest one of them all. So that had been a shock. Between them they managed a shitty studio in Brooklyn.

It was home. Their little hole in the wall. Steve was never quite as happy as he was late at night, or maybe that was early in the morning, when they all piled up like puppy's on the mattresses strewn on the floor. It's warm and most of the time it drives away thoughts of screaming, the shriek of metal, and the hellish cold of the ice. Most of the time.

When it doesn't Steve get's up and draws. He's careful to never draw his friends. His new family. He doesn't want to jinx it. It's too new, this home of theirs.

Even if it really was a hole in the wall. The combine kitchen and living room were barely the size of a large bedroom. And the one bedroom in the apartment was really the size of a large closet. Still, it was theirs, better than what they had before.

They had filled up a corner full of workout gear. A punching bag, dumbbells mysteriously procured by Natasha, and Dart boards everywhere for Clint. There was only one bedroom, which Tony and Bruce had accidentally on purpose taken over. It was full of metal things  
Tony and Bruce were constantly meddling with. But after the first week Tony had produced a flat screen tv that stole their neighbors cable without their notice and made everything look like it was about to burst out from the screen.

It turned out they could have nice things. Just as long as they kept the fact to themselves. 

It's a bad neighborhood.

If the building manager noticed that six teenagers lived there instead of two, well Tony had an awesome reputation for being able to fix anything and make it work better than it had before. Steve and Thor were two huge guys and they were friendly, always willing to lend a hand with heavy lifting. Natasha and Clint were ghosts, no one saw them when they didn't want to be seen and they used the window as a point of entrance just as often as the door. 

Bruce could play doctor with anything, setting sprains and broken bones with an ease of practice that just made Steve angry at everything. But their neighborhood was poor, insurance was hard to come by, it was a lot easier and cheaper to just get Bruce.

Steve was pretty sure the entire building would rebel if they were ever evicted. Of course one thousand five hundred dollars in rent made sure that almost happened once or twice anyway. They are street kids after all. Happy takes his new paperwork and Steve suddenly has a job, a real one that pays for things. But even with all of that he's always missing a hundred or three. They're used to living hand to mouth so saving is hard. So is remembering other things, like bills.

They have six mouths to feed, the kind of appetites that come from growing bodies always in need of sustenance. They try to hold back as much as they can, but it's hard having money burning a hole in your pocket when you're hungry. And they know hungry. Living on the street is tough, some days you can't afford to get on the train, it’s a pain sneaking in when sometimes you have to run from the cops. None of them have any illusions about being able to pay a fine, not when they can barely afford something to eat. 

Starving sucks, it's something all of them are well aware of.

But they try. Each of them, in their own ways. Some things don't change at all. There's still showering at the gym to conserve water. Sneaking into a fancy building at night to do laundry. Sitting on a drying load in his underwear trying desperately not to look at Tony or Thor who never bother with underwear or Clint whose choice in underwear is embarrassingly see through, at least to Steve, who's a sensible boxers kind of guy.

But there are new things too. Pushing a grocery cart while Tony and Bruce pile up cartons and cartons of eggs. Cost effectiveness they assure him. It isn't until they finish soundproofing the room that he finds out that's what they were doing with the cartons. 

Jogging early in the morning with Natasha. Refilling their water bottles at the park, silent, but comfortable. Cooking with Thor and Clint, Thor would gladly eat anything you put in front of him, but Clint is always picky when he can afford to be. Steve learns to make amazing omelettes, through sheer repetition if nothing else.

Yes, sometimes things are bad, or they're rough and it's hard to deal. But there isn't one of them who hasn't been through it before. The good times are rarer. But at least they happen now.

And then, almost impossibly, sometimes things are really good, Thor's joined Clint and Natasha in the park, and Tony and Bruce do mysterious technical things that pay well, rents put away and moneys even saved up eventually. They pile up on the mattresses in the living room and watch movies, Steve likes the classics, the wizard of Oz, Movies made way back when that withstand the test of time. Clint loves action flicks, eyes glued to the screen to catch every inch of violence. Natasha likes documentaries, they rib her, or they try, poking fun at Natasha feels a lot like skinny dipping in the amazon rivers, like pushing your luck beyond all common sense. And they watch them willingly enough, it's better than the romantic tragedies Thor favors, he bawls straight through them. Tony is unsurprisingly a science fiction fan, constantly running commentary on what he'd love to make, what he definitely would some day and what he could make ten times better.

Bruce's choices is what they all enjoy the most though, even if they won't admit it. He picks foreign films, no subtitles, and they usually spend most of the movie trying to puzzle out the plot, he's pretty sure he's picked up how to say my love in six different languages, but he's not too sure, and he doesn't want to admit that the romance is the only bit he can ever follow. Still, it's nice. Movie night, all together, wrapped up in each other just as much as their wrapped up in the movie. It's nice.

It's probably too nice. That's why it can't last.

He's walking around Coney Island with Tony when he runs into Bucky. That's when everything changes.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Bucky is... Bucky is from before.

Bucky was from a time Steve was still the runt of the pack, tiny, asthmatic, mouthy little brat. He'd been Steve's best friend, his favorite playmate, his protector when running his mouth got him in trouble, probably his first crush. Bucky had been a lot of things to Steve.

Before the crash.

Before that icy, winters day when his parent's were being embarrassing, singing Christmas carols, even though Christmas had been over ages ago, and they'd been hit by a car. 

Drunk driver. 

Steve could remember the crunching sound of of the impact. The squeal of the tires as the force swerved them off the road, the shriek of metal against metal as another car hit them from behind. Crawling out against the snow, the feel of ice in his veins, the cold...

Steve hates the cold.

He doesn't remember what he’d told Bucky about it. Steve can remember the crash like it was just yesterday, but the day's that followed... The months after, really, those are blurry. He thinks Bucky's parent's tried taking him in at first, but something happened, and it didn't work out. Steve didn't have any other family. So it was just foster home after foster home, Steve got into too many fights, tried standing up for people too much, he'd even been described as too bossy once, or something. There was always something. Always some reason or another why Steve had to leave. Once he'd hit his growth spurt, leaving his scrawniness and asthma behind, he'd left.

He couldn't stand being yo-yoed from place to place anymore. He was too big to play the victim card when he got into scrapes after school and he was expelled so often no one wanted him in their school anymore. It was much easier to just stay on the train, leave his stop and his newest foster home behind. If he hadn't run into Dr. Erskine, his old pediatrician, he's not sure what he would have done. It hadn't been a planned thing, leaving, he'd been starving two days later, and almost willing to go back. He hadn't, staying away through sheer stubborn will alone, and now, he's glad he had.

He'd been a runaway for something like three weeks until he met Tony. Sometimes he wonders about it. What he would have done if he hadn't. Steve had been drifting, lost, Tony had given him a purpose, something to care about beside himself. He doesn't like to think about what he would have done without him. He'd run into other street kids before, he was a big guy, he'd been invited into groups, almost, but not quite gangs.  
He hadn't gone.

There was something in the looks of them, desperate and desolate. People who'd just given up. Steve hadn't wanted to accept that, hated the thought of admitting that that was exactly what he was doing to himself. But then he'd met Tony, and he didn't have to. Everything was just ...Easier, when he was with Tony. Time flew, goals were outlined and accomplished, Steve barely had to think about it as they did things that needed doing to survive.

He tried not to wonder what Tony had done before hand, the ease with which he talked about booze, drugs, and sex. Sometimes, Steve got the sense that Tony had been a street kid long before he had been. And Tony was tiny. Not small and scrappy the way he had been before puberty hit, but rather slim, lean and wiry. He tried not to think about it. Tony with his charming smiles, his wide, beautiful dark eyes and floppy curls, tried not to think about what happened to kids as gorgeous as him on the street. He tried and he tried, but he never quite managed it. Instead he comforted himself with thoughts of the present. Whatever had happened in his past, Tony had Steve now. And Steve would protect him.

Then there was Natasha, Natasha and Clint. Natasha who got under Tony's skin. Clint, quick and clever, with his sarcastic sense of humor. They had been different. It hadn't just been the performing, or no, maybe it was exactly that. Clint could hit his mark on anything, climbed buildings with the ease of a squirrel going up a tree. Clint could have been breaking and entering, with professionals, Steve had no doubt about that. Clint would have just as easy a time hitting a bulls eye with a gun as he did with his arrows. He was skilled. Valuable really, but he chose to perform in the park, picking pockets instead of robbing prized jewelry.

And Natasha. If Clint was skilled, Natasha was deadly. It was in the way she moved, sinuous, graceful. The way they all felt fear when she was wielding a knife, even if all she was doing was something as innocent as chopping carrots. Once upon a time someone had turned Natasha's body into a weapon. Steve didn't like to think about that. Or what Natasha's opinion had been of it at the time. Natasha had scars in places she usually kept covered. The only reason Steve knew about them was because they stretched before their runs. He'd caught thick scar tissue peeking out from her lower back. Steve didn't like to think about it, hated it when he caught himself thinking, almost a hundred percent sure, that there was a lot more he'd never know about.

But she was there with Clint, performing, surviving when she didn't have to. When she could have easily offered her services, her skills with her fists, to any gangster and been happily accepted. Instead she did acrobatics for petty cash. It was something to respect. Something to admire, about both of them. Steve didn't have to worry as much about them either, they could take care of themselves. Once it had been the four of them, they'd begun coasting. The frantic worry of where the next meal was coming from, or if they would be safe, always present, if never really apparent, began to ease. Steve could trust them to take care of him, and, more importantly, he could trust them to take care of Tony. They pooled what cash they made, ate three meals a day, a rarity for kids in their position.

And then there were Bruce and Thor. Together they'd gone from barely surviving, to thriving. With an apartment, and people who cared when he got home, people who suffered through black and white movies just because Steve liked them. People he could trust to have his back. People who kept him warm at night when the memory of the crash brought ice creeping through his veins. People who made him happy. People Steve was pretty sure he loved.

And then he saw Bucky.

Steve had two days off a week from the gym, and Tony was always insisting he take advantage of it. Making an outing for every single one. Ranging from dragging him for long walks in central park, just the two of them eating hot dogs or burgers , to team bowling that was free for them for reasons Steve didn't want to think too deeply about, considering the way some of the employees looked at Tony.

Steve had insisted on just taking a walk and Tony insisted on making it one on the boardwalk. So they did, strolling along as Tony talked about all the science stuff he and Bruce were always getting up to, and Steve recalling the few funny things that had happened that week at the gym. They'd just come to a lull in the conversation, a comfortable silence falling between them for roughly ten seconds, one Tony was no doubt gearing up to break , when Steve spotted Bucky.

Steve had barely recognized him at first, arm around a pretty brunette with warm brown eyes. He'd probably just passed him by if Bucky hadn't been in the middle of lighting a cigarette. Just a flick of that lighter and Steve found himself recalling acrid smoke, Bucky's dad had that habit, and Bucky had sneaked some away once, when they were ten, to try it for themselves. Steve had refused on the grounds of having asthma and wanting to live, but Bucky had tried it anyway, he'd proceeded to choke himself into a coughing fit whilst Steve laughed at him and they never mentioned it again.

Of course Bucky's mom had apparently smelled the smoke on his clothes and tanned his hide, but the only reason Steve knew about that was that he knew Bucky’s mother, he'd learned to recognize the look she'd give her spawn after a beating she thought they'd been begging for. Steve's pretty sure the only reason she hadn't smacked him around a couple of times was because his blonde hair was a constant reminder he wasn't her child. In a lot of ways he basically had been, with all the time he and Bucky spent together.

Steve found himself coming to a stop before him," Don't tell me you actually started that disgusting habit, Barnes?"  
" Mind your business, Rogers." Bucky completed the exchange absentmindedly, words they must have exchanged a thousand times growing up. They'd both thought calling each other by the last name made them sound cool.

Bucky blinked, as if becoming aware of what he'd just said," Steve?"

"Bucky." Steve smiles, amazed by the warmth he feels at the sight of his childhood friend.

" Steve!" Bucky shouts, and next thing he knows he's being swept in a bear hug. Steve has a slow moment of vertigo when he realizes he's taller than Bucky now. It's decidedly strange.

" Oh my God! How've you been, man? When did you get so huge? I could barely recognize you!" Bucky barrels on, not letting go of Steve for a second. The words are almost flippant, but the arms around him tighten like steel beams. He's been missed. Steve returns the hug, finding himself smiling softly, it's been far too long.

It feels weird though, hugging Bucky. He doesn't think too hard about touching his friends, time spent huddling together in the cold and sleeping all over each other had left them with no kind of regard for personal space. They touch all the time, especially Tony, and Thor. They’re both almost ridiculously tactile. They even starfish in their sleep, Steve doesn't think much of waking up with Tony in his arms, or finding himself being cuddled by Thor. It's something of a thing. But touching between them is very rarely so... Deliberate. 

He doesn't think he's been hugged by anyone who isn't Tony on purpose in a good year. How odd, to think about that. No one ever hugged him while he was in foster care either. But he remembers now, confronted with Bucky, and his easy touch, how familiar that kind of thing used to be. He'd come from a demonstrative family, he'd received pats on the head and kisses on the cheek growing up, now knowing how little he gets those things... It leaves him cold. 

Steve hates the cold.

He breaks away from Bucky, smile somewhat frozen in place. He doesn't know what to say. Childhood promises of eternal friendship are all well in good, but he doesn't know Bucky anymore. Bucky is a normal kid now, with parents and a home, normal worries about girls and school. That's something Steve lost the ability to understand a long time ago. It's not that Steve thinks Bucky has become a bad guy, someone he doesn't want to get to know anymore, or anything like that. Quite the opposite actually. It's just the same worry that keeps them from making normal friends, the thought that he might be inviting someone with misguided notions and earnest good intentions into their lives. At least other street kids know the score, and sometimes you can find people who get it, who are really willing to help, like Happy or Dr. Erskine.

Something tell's him Bucky, with his fond memories of Steve being a normal person, wouldn't quite understand.

He wishes he hadn't recognized Bucky after all. Or at least that he'd known better than to call out to him. He can't think of anything to do, no matter how much he just want's to run away, his legs feel just as frozen as the smile on his face. Fortunately he's not alone.

" Hey, Steve, not gonna introduce me to your friend? How rude." Tony teases him with a pretty smile. Steve knows that smile, it usually gets them awesome deals at flea markets and charms people out of five dollar bills when they'd only meant to hand them a dollar." I guess I'll do it myself, names Tony, who are you? And you're lovely lady friend of course."

He extends a hand. Taking the hand of Bucky's friend first and bringing it to his lips in a move that he really shouldn't manage to look gallant, but does anyway. Then grasps Bucky's hand in a strong easy grip.

Bucky shakes it, looking slightly confused and he's not the only one. It sounds almost polite, but this isn't Tony being friendly at all, for Tony real friendship is found through running his mouth and insulting a person until they begin to give back as good as they get. This, the pretty smile and half-hearted, if seemingly effortless, attempt at manners is Tony's version of cold indifference, thankfully Steve is the only person present who knows this.

" I can introduce myself as well." Bucky's friend declares with a smile that's almost as pretty as Tony's." My name is Peggy, and this rude lug here is Bucky Barnes. And I do agree with you, Steve, was it? Rogers, right? I think we went to grade school together. Smoking is quite a disgusting habit, please help me get Bucky to stop."

" Peggy?" Steve finds himself saying. Looking at the pretty girl before him for any clue of the chubby child he and Bucky use to chase around the playground, pulling her at her pigtails and calling 'piggy Peggy'. Back about a year before he'd figured out it was an awful thing to do. He flushes, immediately embarrassed by having been such a jerk, no matter how long ago. But he's not sure how to apologies, and he doesn't know how much her reply is honest, and how much is an attempt to politely deflect and give him an out. It's kind of her, but Steve doesn't want to take it, he'd been a jerk to her, and he should own up to it." I remember you. I thought you moved to London?"

There's a vague hint of an English accent, a crispness to her words.

"I moved back about four years ago. Imagine my surprise to find the wonder twins split up." She says.

Bucky laughs." You should have seen it Steve, back in eighth grade, no one recognized her! And almost every guy in class asked her out before she let us have it! Something about misogynistic brats, and only caring about what someone looked like and not what's on the inside." Bucky nudged her playfully, " It was very inspiring."

Tony and Peggy laugh.

Steve just smiles, the engaging one he doesn't think about too hard that's become almost automatic whenever he feels awkward. He's still floundering. Trying to figure out if there's anything he can say that won't give away the fact that he's spent a good year and a half on the street and hasn't even thought about things like school when he wasn't running from cops who thought he was a truant.

" Ah man!" Tony exclaims suddenly, pulling a red and gold cellphone out of his pocket that Steve's never seen before, and smiling sheepishly. " You're going to have to give us details next time! Here, give me your number, I'll text you Steve's, he's always leaving his at home. It's so annoying, but what can you do? We're suppose to helping this friend of ours move today. We cut school and everything, and we really can't afford to be late. She'll throw a fit, and moving days are stressing enough, don't you think? We can meet up somewhere, hang out and stuff, you know?"

Someday, he will figure out the ease with which Tony can believably lie and figure out how to do it himself. Meanwhile, he'll be grateful that Tony can read him like a book, and is willing to do his lying for him.

" Sure! I get it." Bucky says," Me and Pegs here just needed a break, we've got this teacher who was ex military or something, Mr. Phillips, and he's been driving us up a wall. Hey do you guy's want any help? I don't mind heavy lifting. Peggy might though. "

Tony makes a face, " Don't start. I don't think about school unless I'm in it, I sleep better at night that way. And no, sorry, but are you kidding? Two teenagers wandering around only really flies because Steve here looks college level, and we both left our backpacks, but you two are clearly cutting, and Tasha will kill us if we get caught by the truant police. Now your number?"

Bucky rattles off some digits and Peggy offers hers as well. Tony texts them both a number he assures them is Steve's and then wishes them luck catching him with it on his person. Bucky gives him one last rib crushing hug and then their off, Steve feeling dazed and confused, while Tony is quiet for once, shooting him considering looks.

They're walking home when Steve begins to feel better, not as shell shocked by the encounter.

" Did that just happen?" He asks Tony. He's not quite sure he want's to believe it. Seeing Bucky again, after all this time. Freezing up and the desire to freeze his old friend out. He feels like an awful person for even thinking it. Bucky has been nothing but a great friend to him since they met in kindergarten. Doubting him now feels like spitting on that friendship.

" Yeah, it happened." Tony says, apparently favoring the blunt approach. " Question is; what just happened? Cuz to me it looks like you were happy to see someone from your old life, and that's just weird Steve, even for a nice guy like you."

" Bucky was my best friend." Steve says, " Before..." 

He stops. Tony doesn't know anything about the car crash, about his parents, about Steve before the foster homes, and in a weird way he prefers it that way. Not because he doesn't trust Tony. He trusts Tony with his life, that's never been an issue for them. He just... He doesn't want to burden him with that. Doesn't want to let on about all the pieces of him that are dead and gone. At least this way, sometimes Steve can pretend he's whole. It's bad enough Tony knows that he's broken. Steve doesn't want to show him the cracks. It's selfish, but he can't help it.

The silence hangs heavy for a moment, when it becomes clear Steve isn't going to go on. He's never been so grateful that it's one of those unspoken rules of theirs not to ask.

" Okay." Tony says, because he doesn't like silence, or maybe because he really does love Steve and want's to distract him from those thoughts, thoughts of before and just how messed up he is." So it sucks that the surprise is ruined now but here you go."  
Tony produces another phone from his pocket. It’s red, white, and blue.

" Is that for me?" Steve asks, befuddled. What on earth would he do with a phone?

" Duh much?" Tony teases," Me and Bruce finally got these baby's working just right, unlimited texting, unlimited internet, and unlimited calls. Not a penny paid in expenses. Gotta love the consumerism of the twenty first century, people don't bother fixing anything anymore, especially not small electronics like phones, they just throw them away, so we scavenged a few and personalized them a bit. We figured it would be easier to keep in touch this way, instead of having to coordinate stuff in the morning. When...You know."

Steve does know. Sometimes, some of them just needed to be alone. And as much as they loved and treasured their home, it was never quit the same as just taking off for a while, walking alone. That freedom, the easy liberty of it. Of having a real place to drift from is one of the best parts of having a home. Knowing that they have a place to come back to.

It doesn't make it terribly pleasant for the rest of them though. It’s impossible not to worry. Steve wasn't sure when he hated it more, when he found himself doing it or when one of the others took off. He hated not knowing where they were. It was like an itch on the base of his spine, a constant worry that something would happen, that they would never know if one of them ever just chose not to come back.

Steve gripped his phone." Thank you."

Tony shrugged, oddly shy." Yeah, whatever, you’re welcome. Just help me explain to Bruce why I went and squealed when I was the one hounding him about this being a super secret surprise and stuff. Then we can call it even."

Steve smiled, feeling like the ground was solid beneath his feet again." Deal!"


	3. Chapter 3

3.  
Out of all of them, Thor leaves the house the most.

It's not a particularly new thing. Thor had been wandering when they found him, and it was a habit he'd continued. While Natasha could be reliably found working out in her off time, Clint was surely practicing his aim somewhere, Bruce and Tony were in their 'Lab', as they'd taken to calling the small bedroom, every second they could squeeze out of the day. And Steve himself, when he wasn't working, was usually cooking, or like Natasha, working out.

Thor was something of a wild card. Someday's Thor would show up at the gym to work on the machines, sometimes he'd be in the kitchen, occasionally he could even be found in the Lab, helping Tony pound Steel with a hammer so ridiculously large only Thor could lift it. And sometimes he'd just be gone.

What's surprising about this, is that he never tells them where he goes. Even now, when they have phones, when it's so easy to let each other know. There is nothing on his behalf. There's never a text saying 'gn 2 str' like Clint or Tony usually drop, as succinct as possible and mostly devoid of vowels. No " I will be at the park." Mimicking Bruce and Natasha's shared love of careful grammar. Granted, Thor prefers to text in all caps, a fair analogue to his tendency to boom things rather than say them. But he never lets them know.

Not where he's going, or how long he'll be gone.

It's oddly inconsiderate. Thor is usually better about such things. Consideration seems to come easily to him. He always makes extra when he cooks, often goes out of his way to force feed certain reluctant geniuses when Steve's not there, which Steve really, truly appreciates. Thor had been perfectly happy to take up Steve's part in their acts in the park. He even has a habit of tagging along when Tony and Bruce have somewhere science related they want to go, keeping an eye on them when they're liable to lose track of what they consider unimportant things. Like where they are, or what time it is.

Thor is usually reliable, if rather inconsistent. A weird paradox Steve doesn't think about too hard. Thor is always there when they need him after all. What more can they ask of him?

So Thor wanders away for long periods of time, and it's not an issue. At least, not until he shows up with his brother.

A brother. None of them had had a clue Thor even had a brother.

It's remarkably like a slap in the face. Coming home to see everyone gathered around the table, eyes solemn and shoulders tense. Uncomfortable. The only one who seemed happy was Thor, beaming widely at a thin, dark haired, pale kid, fidgeting with his sleeves.

It breaks one of their most important rules. Unsaid, but following after the ever important 'don't ask'.

''I thought none of us would ever bring anyone home.'' Steve says, the first time he ever lays eyes on Loki, not that he had known who he was at the time. He was too busy trying not to flip out, holding it together by the very skin of his teeth, to bother to ask.

It's just not done, it's so obvious, that for a moment Steve doesn't want to believe it needs to be said, that it isn't startling, glaringly clear. It's one of their rules. The few sacred ones between them that keeps them whole, keeps them together. 

Home is a sanctuary, home is where they can be happy, be themselves, home is a place that no outsider is ever allowed to intrude upon. Not ever.

And yet there he is. A person he doesn't know in the least.

" Steve." Thor near shouts happily, looking completely unbothered, completely at ease. You wouldn't know he's just wronged them all." This is my younger brother, Loki, I have been searching ceaselessly for him for many years."

" You have a brother?" Steve says, mind working furiously. It does explain a lot, the wandering, the occasional heartbreaking silence. It doesn't excuse it, what Thor has done. But it does explain a lot.

" Verily." Thor booms, meeting his eyes. And it's suddenly clear to Steve that Thor doesn't care. That he was perfectly aware of what he'd done and would gladly do so again. Loki means the world to him.

" I am no brother of yours!" Loki hisses, locking burning green eyes onto Thor. " We are of no blood relation. Your parents took me in out of pity. You are no kin of mine! That's why I left!"

" You are my brother!" Thor roars suddenly, all previous joy turned into pure rage. " You are the family I choose. I searched for you day and night. When our parents gave up, I refused to do the same. I swore to find you. I left to chase after you. I understand, if you never want to go back. I won't force you. But don't deny me Loki. Don't pretend even for a moment that something as foolish as blood would change your place in my heart."

This is clearly not the kind of conversation that they should have been having in front of them. Steve feels like he's intruding, even while half remembered conversations slide into place. Thor's vehement insistence that family are those who make you happy. The people you love. Not those who you're born to. All those questions he'd buried, times where he had followed the rules, when he hadn't asked through his burning curiosity. Something tells him that soon it won't be much of an issue.

That there won't be much left to ask Thor, not after this.

" How kind of you." Loki snaps, dripping sarcasm," How very noble. How generous of you. How typical of Thor Odinson. Taking pity on a loveless runt."

" You know, I think that's the third time you've called yourself a runt since you got here. You do realize you're actually pretty tall right?" Clint interjects.

Steve gapes at him a little. He's not the only one. Bruce's mouth shuts with an audible click once he realizes it's open. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose and mutters to herself in Russian. Only Clint would blithely interrupt what is clearly a passionate argument and not feel awkward in the least. Well, maybe not only Clint...

Tony rolls his eyes.

" Something tells me you guy's have had this argument a few times before. Hell, you guys probably had it before you got here." He says, and the way Thor and Loki look away proves him right.

Tony sighs, " Okay guy's, this is how this is gonna go. Loki, you're already here and something tells me that Thor will challenge anyone who tries to send you a way to a fight to the death, so just stay the night. We still have to talk about it obviously. But it can wait till tomorrow. It's not like any of us are going anywhere. Besides you guys have been in the kitchen for hours and I've been getting hungry here. I'm even willing to help Steve cook for once! I'm starved. And I'm sure I'm not the only one. You don't want Bruce getting cranky, trust me on that. We're totally Science Bro's, so I would know."

Everyone at the table just kind stares at him. Nobody moves.

Tony runs a hand through his unruly hair. Gives a gusty sigh.

"Also, this is me kicking you out, clearly. I knew I shouldn't have bothered trying to be subtle, I'm no good at it. So shoo, mommy and daddy need to have a grown up talk in the kitchen. No eavesdropping now."

It isn't until everyone else has left that it occurs to him to wonder who mommy and daddy are suppose to be. But the first words out of his mouth are, " Why didn't you call me?"

Tony should have. Hours, he'd said. There had been a stranger in their home for hours and Steve hadn't known. He balled his fists, tried to fight off the rage the thought brings to the fore. It isn't like him, he's not one to be easily angered, he's usually the rational one. He's the guy who stays calm. But it's so hard.

There's a stranger in their home . And Steve has never felt so useless. He'd rather be angry, it's almost easier, feeling mad.

"Sit down, will you?" It isn't until Tony says it that he even realizes he stood. Steve makes himself sit, opens his hands with a show of will power that almost leaves him impressed with himself. Then he meets Tony's eyes. He knows the look he finds there, it's remarkably like that first day all over again, though he hadn't known what that look meant at the time. Tony is assessing him. Weighing pros and cons, action versus inaction, courses of actions plotted and re-plotted at the speed of light, or however fast geniuses thought.

"Tony. Tell me." Steve orders, the silence is killing him, he can't wait until Tony has decided the best course of action. As far as he's concerned, there really isn't one at the moment.

" It doesn't have to be a bad thing." Tony blurts, catching him off guard.

" What?" Steve demands. What part of 'Stranger in our home' did Tony not understand? Of course it was a bad thing!

" It's not like with your friend." Tony says, totally out of left field as far as Steve is concerned. What did Bucky have to do with anything? But Tony plows on, oblivious, or deliberately ignoring his confusion. With Tony, it was hard to tell.

" Loki's a street kid too. And Thor loves him, that's obvious, he ran away just to follow the guy, that's love, right? I mean it sounds pretty romantic to me, but I'm an only child, the hell do I know about brotherly love? Mind you, Loki has to be a total drama queen, running away and throwing a fit just because he was adopted? Man, I wish I'd been adopted. And Clint's right, what's up with the whole runt thing? Ok, I'll give him skinny, he's pretty thin. But he's not exactly little. Just because he's not built like a mac truck like you, or like Thor doesn't mean he's small. I'm small, Clint's small. Loki is way too big to realistically be calling himself tiny. It's insulting. I'm insulted right now. Totally insulted, Steve."

" Tony." Steve cuts in because Tony is just babbling now, and he won't stop unless someone interrupts him. They really do need to talk. He then realizes he's smiling, a small one. But it’s there nonetheless. Which isn't conducive to being serious at all, but he can't help it. Tony's babbling is endearing. It's nothing new, Tony is always making some sort of noise, tapping on things or humming under his breath when he's suppose to be quiet. Muttering absentmindedly to himself when he's focused on something, or nonsense when he's sleeping. And that's not even factoring in all the talking he does. If left to his own devices, Tony would talk for day's. Babbling, for being as common as it is for Tony, is still hopelessly adorable. Steve doesn't understand why this is, exactly, but it makes him feel this wave of warm affection for Tony everytime he does it. His previous anger stands no chance. He feels a calm settle over him, eased by the familiarity of the situation and has to shoot Tony a considering look. Who's to say that hadn't been Tony's plan all along? Stupid, sneaky, brilliant geniuses, Steve thinks, trying to force his smile away. He'd had better luck with the rage.

" Why didn't you call me?" Steve asks again, in the hopes of getting a straight answer for once. It's a pretty futile hope, but who ever said hope springs eternal had been onto something.

" Okay, getting back on track." Tony concedes, at least." Look, it hadn't even occurred to me that not everyone would run away from the people of their past like their ass was on fire until we ran into that friend of yours. Seriously, it hadn't even been in the cards. But then Thor shows up with the guy he left his past for, and well, I've never seen him that happy. Don't get me wrong, we weren't happy about it, the rest of us I mean. But you have to admit, once you put the whole he's in our house outrage to the side, we were all strangers once. And it's not like the guy's hopeless, I mean he's skinny as all hell, but he's been on the street for years, according to Thor, that means he's either got guts or street smarts or some serious brilliance he figured out how to make work for him, it might even be all three. Either way, he's a survivor, and not acknowledging that is pretty stupid at this point."

Steve nods, because Tony's right. Surviving is hard, it's something each of them is intimately aware of. And if Loki's managed it all this time...Well, he has Steve's respect at least. But still, it grates, the very idea of someone else...He can barely stand it, barely believe it. He doesn't want to." You want him to stay?"

" No!" Tony says, with a vehemence that surprises him. Tony crosses his arms, an action that always comes across as Tony hugging himself, rather than the defiance the gesture is intended to imply." I don't want anyone in our house. Not now, not ever. It's ours Steve, it's all we have."

" Yes."Steve sighs in relief. That's it exactly, that's what he feels, what he thought they all felt. That understanding, the true value of their home. Of the one thing that was solely theirs, solely safe in the world." I know."

Then Tony slumps." But that's just what I feel. What we all feel, probably. And Bruce and I were talking about it in the lab. Before Tasha and Clint got here. I mean, we all left, maybe we didn't have a better place to go, but at the end of the day, we thought we were better off on our own than where we were. And no matter what we were leaving behind, if there was even anything to be left, we all have that in common. Whose to say Loki's not the same? I mean it seems stupid to us, but he left. It's not like we know the whole story. Anyone's whole story, in this house, it goes unsaid. We're all blank slates here, even when we're not. And that's what matters right? What makes it good; safe."

Steve buries his head in his hands because he doesn't want to look at Tony. Doesn't want to see all the jagged edges he studiously avoids. And that's exactly what he means, isn't it? Not asking, it's not just themselves that rule protects. It's each other, too. Seeing people you love broken, that hurts. And they already hurt enough all on their own.

" So what do we do?" Steve asks. More to get off the subject than to get a real answer. But he doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about it. And that truly is the beauty of being with people who understand. He doesn't have to.

" Well that's up to you, isn't it?" Tony says with an almost careful flippancy.

" What do you mean?" Steve demands. They all live here, it should be a communal decision. Perhaps they should take a vote.

" We discussed that too." Tony says, instead of giving Steve a straight answer. Someday Steve will figure out how ask Tony things and get him to answer the question directly. On the first try, even. Until then he supposes he'll have to make due with half answers and if he's particularly unlucky, deflections." When Tasha and Clint arrived. We talked about it. About who should get the most say and why. The lab makes more than their act in the park. But the park act precedes it and in many ways enabled us to set up shop. So we're about even there. Tasha says the act was Clint's idea though, and he does do most of the work anyway so he gets priority vote, if it ever comes to that. Bruce gave me lab ownership rights since most of what we do for cash is technical and I showed him how to do it. So my votes after Clint's. So ideally by order of importance it would go you, Clint, me, Natasha, Bruce, and then Thor, since he came last and is more of a free agent anyway. Not that it matters, you get to decide."

Steve makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat." What do you mean, why am I first? Why do I get to decide?"

Tony looks at him, incredulous. " That's obvious, isn't it?"

" No." Steve says, finding himself resisting the urge to roll his eyes." If it was, I wouldn't be asking now would I?"

Tony, asshole that he is when it suits him, does roll his eyes, as though Steve were being exasperating and it wasn't the other way around." This is your place, duh. Sure Thor's down as your roommate or whatever, but you're the one who got your doctor friend to sign on. Besides you work your ass off most of the week to pay the vast majority of the rent. And when you're not working, you're keeping that gorgeous shape of yours, or making sure the rest of us are eating. Let's face it Steve, you're captain of this ship."

Steve flushes slightly at the compliment, he can’t help it. He always does. He like's that Tony notices he's built, and more than that, that he likes it. He tries not to, he doesn't want it to be awkward between them. Tony says things like that to all of them. Calls Natasha as beautiful as she is deadly. Compliments Clint more on his arms than his skill with a bow. He's heard him tell Thor he's a 'blonde god' and Bruce 'a choice piece of ass, and that's without factoring in that gorgeous brain of yours, darling'. Tony thinks nothing of calling him hot, or drool worthy, it shouldn't make him flush the way it does, shouldn't distract him so thoroughly. But it does.

Despite being a house full of teenagers, sex isn't usually an issue. Not really, he knows, or at least is aware that there are people that want him that way. Girls, and the occasional guys, that look at him at the gym. And he's not the only one. All of them are attractive. It's not something he's too conscious of, but he knows none of them would have trouble finding that kind of company, if they wanted it.  
And for all he knows maybe they do. Maybe Natasha meets up with people after a run. Thor might have a girl or a guy somewhere. Or maybe Clint doesn't just go to the store, and maybe Tony and Bruce do a lot more than science together. But somehow, he doesn't really believe that. Any of it. The only person in the house he really knows has sex is Tony, and that never happens when he's in a good, happy place. They are all street kids after all, and sex means both a lot more and a whole lot less to them than to others their age. Being on your own changes everything. And even while they are all together, he doesn't like to think about them in such terms, romantic ones, it's just another way their still alone.

Steve shakes his head, makes his mind come back to their conversation. It's utterly stupid." Sure, the apartment I got, with the papers you made. And the job I have, thanks again to the papers you made. The apartment we wouldn't be able to keep if you guys didn't pay for what I'm missing come the day rents due. And all the food I cook you guys buy. And almost everything else in the apartment someone else got their hands on."

" Yeah, yeah." Tony says waving his argument away. " I told the others you'd say something like that. I guess on some level they think so too, since Clint says my vote should go over his, and Tasha and Bruce backed him. But they agree. So maybe I’m vice captain, or whatever. I'm not saying we're dead weight here. We all pitch in, that's why this works. If Loki does stay he'll be expected to do the same. I get the whole 'you don't think it's fair that you get so much say thing' but that's exactly why you do. We wouldn't dream of giving you so much veto power if you were some dick who let power go to your head. You're honestly the most responsible one, out of all of us. And on some level we all know, we all trust, that you'll do your best to do the right thing here. So go ahead cap. You get to choose. Tomorrow Loki can stand trial, Thor will be presenting his defense, no doubt. If I were you, both of you, I'd think about it long and hard."

" Both?" Steve asks, and then flushes. Registering the utter silence of the apartment.

The others hadn't even bothered turning the tv on and pretending to watch it. They live in a whole in the wall, there isn't even a proper wall between the kitchen and the living room, just a paper screen Natasha had produced from somewhere. Of course the others have been hanging on to their every word.The eavesdropping comment, Steve now realizes with the benefit of hindsight, had been a joke.

" By the way, I wasn't kidding about the food." Tony says. “ We should get cooking. And by we, I mostly mean you.”

And Steve can't bite back the laugh that bubbles up.

Geez, this is his life.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Loki doesn't stand trial the next day. There's no time for one, and none of them are up to putting in the effort.

They're all too tired. Steve had been kept up half the night by all their twisting and turning, knowing very well he wasn't helping matters by shifting around himself. But he couldn't help it, it's awkward. The warm atmosphere he's become accustomed to as they drop off like flies is missing. He still has to work the rest of the week. And the others have their own jobs to do. It's not really conductive to getting to know the guy and seeing whether or not he's staying or going.

So Loki has to wait until Steve's next day off to stand trial.

Ultimately, it goes something like this; the rest of them don't want Loki to stay, and Thor pouts them all into submission. For someone who's so large, so buff, and looks so very little like a puppy at all, Thor manages to look adorable remarkably well. It's impossible to say no to him.

It's also the simple fact that Loki makes Thor happy. So happy. His joy seems to be a physical presence in their apartment at times. Steve thinks that none of them had known anything about the actual extent of Thor's misery before. Thor was someone who was so effortlessly cheerful. But comparing his happiness then to his happiness now... It's like holding a lightbulb up next to the sun.

That this happiness seems to ebb and flow with Loki's moodiness isn't something any of them are terribly happy about though. The guy runs hot and cold all at the same time. Sometimes he's nice to Thor, easily falling into place by his side, and making conversation. Other times he can't seem to get far enough away from him.

The rest of them can't bring themselves to butt into something none of them understand. The best they can do is be supportive. Let Loki stay in their space. Attempt to welcome him into the fold.

It helps that Loki seems to be a 'Magic geek' and his performance meshes well with their activities at the park. Steve can also see where Thor developed his tolerance for science talk. Loki seems to spend hours at a time in the Lab, and Steve is just as clueless about the things they discuss even when they're doing it in front of him.

" It's always nice to talk to a fellow geek." Bruce says, when questioned on the matter.

" He's a clever bastard. I like it." Tony says, and Steve can see where they're coming from. Loki is frighteningly intelligent. Of course he fits right in at the Lab. The time he spends with Natasha and Clint is a little more mysterious until he walks in on Loki flinging knives at a board with Clint.

" He's good." Clint says. He's someone who respects skill.

" I don't trust him." Natasha says. That's important, trust is important to her. Trust is important to all of them, but for Natasha, it's an especially sore point.

Steve can see where they're coming from too.

Thor, for being the very cause of Loki's presence at their apartment seems to spend the least time with him. And it's not from lack of trying. Thor follows Loki around with the air of a kicked puppy. Unless Loki is feeling generous at the time, in which case Thor can be found staring at him like he hung the moon as he hangs on to Loki's every word. This never seems to last longer than half an hour however, that seems to be how long it take's for Loki to remember that he actually hates Thor again.

" We have many issues that have gone unaddressed for much time." Thor says, when Steve points out the lack of brotherly bonding. That, Steve thinks, is an incredible understatement.

Loki walks in their space with a strange energy. As if he hasn't quite decided whether he wants to fight them or flee. Then again, Thor seems to instinctively step in front of exists whenever he's in the same room as Loki. So maybe it's simply that he can't do either.

" He's my brother." Thor says. He says it often. To them. To Loki. None of them ever seem particularly happy to hear it. Loki especially.

" I love him." Thor says.

And Steve doesn't know what to do with that. Except that he can't take that happiness away from Thor. He knows the others, they just want him to be happy too. Something that would be much easier if Loki could manage to be pleasant for longer than it takes the rest of them to walk out of a room.

Loki never seems to want to be alone with Thor. If the rest of them try to clear out, he's always quick to follow. Once it becomes clear that Thor is rather desperate for some privacy with his brother, this becomes blatantly clear. There really is no ditching them together. And man do they try...

Eventually even Thor's frustration seems to build. He corners Loki just outside of their bathroom, in full view of the rest of them. So much for privacy.

" You have been avoiding the subject brother." Thor says.

" And what subject is that?" Loki replies with cool disinterest.

" I left much behind when I continued my search for you. It could not have only been the news of the adoption." Thor said roughly. Steve looked away then, the emotion on Thor's face was too much, he needed to give them what little privacy he could. " I need to understand why you left."

That's when, as Tony later puts it, Loki loses his shit.

" You who everyone looked up to. The golden son! You who would never understand what it's like to be looked over! Eyes passing right over you as if your presence were for naught. Don't you dare tell me you wish to understand!" Loki roared.

And then he stepped back and slammed the door closed.

Thor shoots the bathroom door an agonized look. Then turned to the rest of them. The silence hung awkwardly among them. There wasn't anything the rest of them could say to make what happened better.

Thor buried his face in his hands, muffling his words slightly. "Loki did not take knowledge of his adoption well."

" I can see that." Clint says, and Natasha does her duty as his best friend by smacking him for the rest of them.

" You're just lucky he's too big to fit through the bathroom window." Tony says, running a hand through his hair." If that were Clint he'd be half way down the block by now."

" Oh yeah! Break out champ." Clint pumps a fist." Whose number one baby?"

Bruce shoots all of them an exasperated look. " Why don't we just go watch a movie? It's my turn to pick today, anyway. I'm thinking swedish horror movie."

Steve makes a face." Those are the worst ones."

They really are. His utter inability to understand what's happening usually adds to the horror rather than detract from it. Natasha looks at him incredulously." You mean the best."

" So we're all just going to ignore that Loki's hauled up in the bathroom, huh?" Tony asks the room at large. The rest of them who actually understand the concept of tact glare at him.

Meaning everybody but Clint." What if one of us has to go Potty?"

Tony nods seriously, " It's a valid concern."

Thor looks like he very much would like to hold back a smile. He fails.

" You both lack hearts." He tells them, reluctantly fond.

" Tell us something we don't know." Clint says, and Tony high fives him.

Steve shakes his head, amused. He glanced back at the door. The brothers stepping around each other couldn't continue. Home was not a place where fighting would be tolerated. They all had the occasional meltdowns, and that was bad enough. But having two people actively making each other miserable wasn't something any of them could stand for long.

" Wait." Tony said, before Bruce started his movie. " I'm brilliant. I just had an idea. It's brilliant. I am such a genius! Do you know how smar-"

" Well genius," Natasha interrupted." are you planning to enlighten the rest of us."

" But of course!" Tony declared happily." We should just shove Thor into the bathroom with Loki and lock the door."

Tony turned his excited smile towards them expectantly. The rest of them looked at him in disbelief.

Finally, Steve sighed." You do know life isn't like the movies right?"

" And isn't that supposed to be something you do when you want a couple to get together?" Clint was quick to add.

" It's not like it's incest if Loki's adopted." Tony says, motioning to the mopey blonde on the mattress." And Thor doesn't look like he's against it."

Alarmingly enough, the look on Thor's face is rather thoughtful.

" That's crazy Tony." Bruce says, because he's sane.

Natasha shoots the bathroom door a considering look." It's not like we've got anything to lose. They can't avoid talking if they're stuck together in an enclosed space long enough."

" Exactly!" Tony cheered." Now come on, Thor buddy, will you come in peace or do we have to drag you in there?"

" Are you sure this will work Anthony?" Thor asked gravely.

Tony made a face." Don't call me that! It's Tony, say it with me; To-ny. Now stop being insulting and doubting my genius."

They had to wait an hour because none of them could remember what they'd actually done with the bathroom key. Eventually they got tired of looking and dragged some welding equipment out of the Lab along with a piece of metal. Hopefully none of them would have to go to the bathroom before morning .That was when Tony would let them out.

Getting Thor into the bathroom with Loki had been another adventure. Loki had clearly overheard their plans and had been ready to make a break for it. It had taken Natasha and Clint double teaming him to take him down long enough to drag him into the same space with his brother. It had been impressive.

By the time the door is welded shut, they're all tired, if not a little sore.

" Movie?" Bruce offers again, and they collapse into a grateful heap before the TV.

Steve doesn't remember falling asleep. But he remembers being briefly woken by someone shouting " I MISSED you." once, and again with a roar of " I NEED you!"

When they liberate them the next day, it's almost near noon because everyone overslept. Steve is glad that it's his day off and bemused when neither Thor, nor Loki seemed to mind the extra time in captivity.

Amazingly, Tony's plan had worked. The only reason the house isn't filled with chants of 'I told you so!' is because it's written all over his face. Steve thinks it's unfair that even Tony's smug bastard face is attractive.

Loki and Thor finally get along after that. Some of the brotherly affection does seem romantic. They hold hands when they're walking sometimes and Thor's starfishing seems to happen exclusively to Loki every night. But like Tony had said, it wasn't incest if Loki was adopted.

Thor's happiness seems to solidify after, and his joy is so strong it's contagious. Whether you want it to be or not. Steve finds himself whistling on his way to work, doodles smiling faces absently. He catches Bruce and Natasha bumping and grinding in the living room as Tony plays DJ when comes home early one day. Even Clint can be found humming in the morning, and he is the farthest thing from a morning person there is in the house. For a time, all of them can claim they're happy.

If they had known the guy before he moved in, Steve doesn't think there would have been any problems to begin with. Loki clicks suspiciously well with all of them. He could have easily been one of them from the get go. But suddenly there's friction. Because Loki isn't one of them and he doesn't instinctively know their unspoken rules the way they do.

So he makes them think about unmentionable things without ever meaning to.

" You could go back." Loki says one night after they shut the TV off, and for a moment Steve can't even breathe. For another, he could honestly say that he hates him. Steve has never found it in himself to hate anyone but drunk drivers before.

Loki is whispering, clearly the words are only meant to reach Thor. But the rest of them can hear them just fine. " You know your father would welcome you back. It's not as though you need an education to take over the family business. You could leave, go back, make something out of yourself."

" Never." Thor whispers back, but Steve can barely hear him. His thoughts are racing.

Nononono- because they can't. They can never go back. Except maybe Thor can- and Steve does not want to think about it. He pulls Tony closer to him from where he'd been lounging by his side and wraps his arms tightly around him. No. No one is leaving. They are all each other have. And they know that. No one is leaving. He has to believe that.

Things are strained for some time after. It's hard to meet each others eyes. It's hard not to think about what the others are wondering. The concept of the future haunts them all.

" We can't do this forever." Loki says at breakfast one morning, shortly thereafter, and Steve hates him with a passion he didn't know he could ever have. This is why Loki could never be one of them. Because Loki brings thoughts about a future none of them are sure they have into the one safe place where they should never have to face that.

From someone they opened their home to especially. It feels remarkably like a betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is usually the part where I make my excuses and apologies for taking forever to update. Sadly I got nothing. Let's just agree that I suck. I really will try harder to update this though, promise.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Things can’t stay the same after Loki’s pronouncement. No matter how much they want it to. Loki has made himself a portend of things to come. A walking reminder of all the things that they can’t change. Of the inevitability of their drifting apart, despite the strength with which they hold onto each other. Hold onto the few good things in life that they have managed to find.

Loki’s presence now signifies how very fragile their happiness is. 

Steve thinks that if they didn’t love Thor the way they did, Loki would be a dead man walking. Sadly they do love Thor, so instead they freeze Loki out. If he wanders into the Lab, Tony and Bruce wander out. If he’s using Clint’s target boards, Clint is not present. Natasha can’t be found in the same room as him unless they’re sleeping. And while Steve isn’t proud of it, he no longer addresses Loki, skims over him as if he doesn’t see him. The only person not ignoring Loki is Thor, and even he seems shorter with his brother. Despite their now closer relationship.

Loki mostly responds by being equally frigid. By pretending that the treatment isn’t bothering him. And bringing up their lack of a future at every turn, encouraging Thor to go back to his parents. Constantly making them think about the pasts and futures that they don’t want to have. 

It’s for that reason in particular that Steve can’t help but think that Loki deserves their behavior, childish though it might be. 

Bringing up the future is cruel. 

They are street kids after all. The apartment, the careful balance of odd and legitimate jobs might be the best they ever have. While Tony and Bruce may be brilliant, and there is no denying the sheer athletic ability of Natasha and Clint, that doesn’t necessarily bode well for them. They aren’t in any systems, have no official education. They basically just float along the regular people, careful not to catch attention lest the system attempts to suck them back in. Their age is their greatest enemy, and Steve hates the thought of being pulled apart.

They only function as well they do because they’re together. Each a special, essential part of the whole. Like cogs in a well oiled machine. Steve hates the thought of not being together, can’t wrap his mind around a future where they aren’t all there. They need each other too much. He needs the others too much. He can’t stand the thought of being alone again. He’d tried to make Loki understand this, at first. 

Talked to him about belonging and how much he just needed to stop. Steve doesn’t understand why he had even needed to explain it. Loki was a street kid too, he should have understood their positions instinctively, the way they all did.

But Loki keeps pushing, especially at night, when they’re cuddled close, keeps mentioning Thor’s past, reminds them of their own. It’s only natural when one of them snaps. Steve isn’t even surprised it’s Clint, he’s been twitchy for a while, resentful of Loki’s use of his boards. What’s surprising is that he doesn’t freak out the way he usually does. Instead of reaching for his weapons Clint takes off, out the window.

Steve looks at Natasha, half expecting her to take after him. But she just pressed closer to Bruce. Steve understood, clutching Tony closer. He hasn’t been able to sleep without Tony in his arms lately. Clint will come back. If he’s still gone by morning then Steve will text him. He still glares at Loki though. Because he made Clint leave. Loki makes things difficult. Make’s the one place in the world that they had carefully constructed to be theirs unsafe.

Steve hates the new tension in the house. 

The way their hackles rise, the way they can’t relax any longer with Loki around them. It still catches him off guard when he’s the next to break. 

It’s-it’s stupid. So stupid.

He gets off work, half dreading the next day, because he has it off and Tony is ridiculous. Half looking forward to it anyway because he likes Tony, no matter how ridiculous. Looks forward to spending time with him no matter what they do. Except that when he walks into their apartment their is no hyper genius clamoring for his attention. There’s no one home. No one in the Lab, no one in the kitchen, no one spread out on a mattress in their livingroom.

The apartment is completely silent in a way Steve can’t remember it being, he’s never been alone inside of it before.

And he can’t.

He just-he just can’t. Can’t rationalize the others absence. Can’t deal with being alone. Can’t unsee it as a reflection of his inevitable future. Left behind, left all alone. Because the others will be just fine without him. They don’t need him. They are all too smart, too brilliant, too exceptional to stay. Most of the time he can forget, or maybe ignore it is a better word. Most of the time he can pretend that they don’t mind his presence, that they actually want him around. Tony especially.

But presented with an empty apartment, Steve can’t cope. And he has a moment of perfect understanding for Clint’s actions the night before. He can’t stand being home when it’s not a home anymore either.

Steve runs away. He doesn’t know how long, or where he’s going. He just runs. Does the only thing that’s ever seemed to get him anywhere. He runs past the pain in his legs and the burning in his lungs. Runs until he can pretend that everything will be okay. 

It’s dark by the time he comes to a walk, light by the time he comes to a stop. He has no idea where he is, or what time it is.

It finally occurs to him to check his phone. He has sixteen messages. Inquiries for his location from most of the others, and a barrage of annoyed admonitions from Tony. Something in his chest. Something heavy and cold that had been constricting his lungs, something he couldn’t run from, no matter how hard he tried, released. He felt like he could breathe again, like it might be okay if he just went back. Got them all together in one place again.

It’s why he could never give them up. No matter how selfish it was to keep them close the way he did. He needed them too much. Needed them in order to be Steve, or to at least pretend he could function like a normal person. He wouldn’t be okay without them.

It was eleven by the time he makes it back and he’s exhausted. But everyone is home by the time he walks in. Eyes subtly checking him over for damage even as they pretend it’s business as usual. Tony leaves the Lab like he usually doesn’t need to be coaxed out when he’s been there for a while. Flops right over Steve’s back where he’d collapsed face first into the mattress. He made a big production of yawning, plastering himself along Steve’s body.

“I need a nap,” Tony declares, decidedly decisive.

“What a coincidence,” Steve manages to mutter, sleep greying out the edges of his vision.”So do I.”

“We should nap together then.” Tony says, and it’s the last thing Steve remembers before he’s asleep. 

Waking up, bonelessly relaxed with a softly snoring Tony tucked into his shoulder, surrounded by the people most important in the world to him is like a balm against his soul. He decides he’ll have to try napping with Tony again, it’s one of the better days off he’s had, and he knows that Tony sleeps pretty badly, with his constant tossing and turning, and probably not enough. Judging by the smudges under his eyes that seem to have taken up permanent residence. 

Besides, he likes the feeling he gets taking care of him, of all of them. It’s why he works as hard as he does, and why he’s constantly going out of his way to do things for all of them. Keeping Natasha company when she runs, providing an ear for Thor when he’s feeling lonely. Feeding Clint, Bruce, and Tony. It makes him feel good, makes him feel needed. He knows it’s an illusion. Especially nowadays, when he can’t quite avoid catching sight of Loki. But it’s one he’ll gladly embrace every time. Because if he doesn’t have them, then he has nothing at all.

So Steve gets up and takes a shower, he has no idea how Tony all but slept on him, considering the way he smelled. Slips on a pair of sweats that are a little too big to belong to him and starts dinner, humming absently as he went through the soothing familiar motions. It’s late, he usually wouldn’t eat at this time, but he’s starving, and the others will gladly eat whenever, especially if it’s something they don’t have to prepare themselves.

The sounds in the kitchen rouse Natasha before anyone else. She always sleeps the lightest. Once the meat gets cooking the smell wake Thor. Then Clint and possibly Bruce. He’s going to have to nudge Tony awake because he’s fairly sure Tony hadn’t eaten anything before he’d joined Steve for his minor coma.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha says, startling him.

Steve blinks, having no idea what she could possibly be apologizing for.

“It was my fault we were all gone.” She says, and Steve has to take a moment to remember how to breathe. He tries to focus his attention to the stove, but the memory of coming home to the empty apartment makes his hands tremble, throat going tight like it used to when he had asthma attacks. He wants her to stop, he’d rather forget. Pretend it had never happened no matter how much it hurt.

But he can’t speak past the knife in his throat and she keeps going.

“It was stupid. But I couldn’t find Clint, I just wanted to check up on him. I wasn’t going to make him come back or anything, I know better. I know he needed time, but he’s-he’s Clint. So I always make sure he’s okay. He wasn’t where he usually is. I mean, it’s not like he has specific places he goes. But I’ve never had trouble finding him before. I was worried, he wouldn’t pick up his phone. So I asked the others to help. Even Loki did his part. I-I didn’t think that it would take so long. That you’d come home to find us gone.”

Steve’s grip on the pan in his hand is so tight it hurts. But Natasha has finally stopped, so he can focus on breathing, on being okay. They are all here, all under the same roof. All as fine as they ever manage to be. He looks at her, she’s worried, and he can tell.

It had taken him months to figure out her tells, to understand that she was a woman of few words and fewer facial expressions. Natasha doesn’t speak unnecessarily. She can wield words with the same deadly skill she can wield her body, and she’s always careful with both around those she cares about. For Natasha, that explanation had been a speech, one that every instinct he has is telling him she didn’t want to give. Just as much as he hadn’t wanted to hear it. But she had given it because she felt she owed him, because she worried. Worried that she’d hurt him irreparably.

“It’s fine.” Steve lies, and barely manages to save dinner from burning.

Natasha nods slowly. He’s lying and they both know it. But she takes his words for the forgiveness that it is. It’s not her fault he needs them the way he does. Not her fault that he’s as broken as he is.

By the time the others are serving themselves and he’s shaking Tony awake he can finally go back to pretending that he’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year later and I still suck. But to be fair this fic is fighting really hard against my ability to write it.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve comes home to find Bruce's face bruised to hell, knuckles bloodied. It's not even close to surprising, and some part of Steve, the anxious, cowardly part, is glad to have missed the rage. Bruce, for someone who is usually calm, and gentle, is incredibly terrifying in a rage. There have been times when Steve has feared for his own safety in the face of Bruce's anger. But Bruce usually manages to direct his temper at strangers, other brawler's who prefer to communicate with their fists.

It's how Bruce breaks, all violence and rage. They've all been waiting for the ones who've managed to hold it together to shatter. So coming home to find Bruce hurt isn't surprising. No, what shocks Steve to his core is Natasha. There is a vivid swollen welt on her face. On Bruce, bruises are worrying but expected. On Natasha, on Natasha they're horrifying.

It's not sexist. Natasha is the most physically capable of them all. She could kick anyone's ass, Steve is prepared to swear, hand to heart, that if he had to bet against some eastern martial arts master or Natasha, his money would be on Natasha every time. It's horrifying because someone managed to land a hit on her, and that-that doesn't compute. He's seen Natasha's scars, caught peeks of them just because they live together and she's comfortable enough with him, with them, that she doesn't try to hide them the way he knows she could. But he has never seen a fresh wound on her before.

It chills something inside of him.

"What happened?" He demands, cataloguing the way Natasha's fists are clenched and realizing that Bruce is angled away from her. From them, and it's like something clicks, he can feel the tension in the room now, wound tight between the two people it's always been relaxed before.

"Did-" Steve starts, mortified, and finds himself unable to continue. Bruce flinched like Steve clocked him good and he doesn't need any other answer. Bruce hit her, he'd hit Natasha.

"It was an accident." Natasha says, firm.

Of course it was an accident. Natasha wouldn't be helping Bruce bandage himself up the way she usually did if it hadn't been. But Steve knows Bruce, has a very good idea of the monster that clawed the gaping holes in his psyche that Bruce fills with rage. Hurting one of them, even by accident, is going to haunt him. Worse than having lived with a monster is the thought that you might become one.

Steve has never asked, but he isn't blind. Just like the others notice that he hates snow, always curls up near the heater when it's the least bit chilly, and loathes alcoholics, Steve has learned their ticks as well. Before Loki's appearance, family had been Thor's hot button, he always had more than enough to say on the subject. Natasha's need to be armed at all times spoke for itself. Clint needed open space the way everyone else needed air. Tony had been self destructing since the day they met, and while Steve had done his best to curve the behavior, sometimes it wasn't enough. And Bruce? Bruce hated abusive assholes. Except that hate wasn't strong enough a word.

Once, before they'd managed the apartment, a few weeks after Bruce had joined them they'd all gone to see the fireworks for the fourth of July. It had been fun, seeing the lights together. Being part of a crowd without having to worry about what anyone thought of them, just friends hanging out on the fourth of July. Their good mood had lasted about an hour after the fireworks when they had been ambling towards a subway station and an argument had broken out between a man and a woman a little aheads of them. Thor, Clint, and Natasha had been distracted by a hotdog stand at the time. So he didn't know until after that they'd witnessed it too. When the guy had struck what was presumably his girlfriend, open palmed in front of them, and Bruce had launched himself at the guy before Steve had even registered what had happened.

It was the first time he'd ever seen Bruce go berserk. It had been horrifying, first because the guy had been huge and the woman had launched herself at them in some desperate hope to get between them. Then, when Steve had managed to wrestle her away without hurting her, because Bruce wouldn't go down. The guy had landed hit after clear hit but Bruce barely seemed to notice, landing a few well placed hits on the guy. He'd gotten knocked down and Bruce just wailed on him until Thor had wrestled his way through the crowd and dragged Bruce of him.

They'd run, someone had called the cops at some point during the commotion, and none of them could afford to be caught by the police. Bruce had bruises blooming all over his face and Steve had panicked and tried to take him to . Bruce wouldn't hear of it, so Steve ended up spending food money on bandages and stuff with Tony at a really sketchy pharmacy when Natasha said she could take care of it if she had supplies.

Thinking back on it, he'd realized the searching look Bruce had been giving them all then was for the slightest hint of fear. He didn't find any, and dropped it soon enough when Clint began mocking him for being chivalrous. Steve is pretty sure that it was part of why Bruce stayed with them. Not just because they're willing to take care of him, but also because they don't fear him or his endless rage.

Steve walks over, plants himself, very deliberately besides Bruce on the edge of the mattress and places a firm hold on his shoulder.

"Bruce." Steve says, in a voice that demands attention. It's not one he uses often. But Steve is the responsible one, the one that calls the others to heel when they are goofing off too much and they have things that have to be done. The one who plays voice of reason when they get incredibly stupid ideas in their heads. It may be self appointed, but Steve fully believes it's his responsibility to help the others, and that means talking Bruce out of that scary dark place in his head before they lose him there permanently instead of on occasion."It's alright. It was an accident. It won't happen again."

Steve prays to a god he can't always bring himself to believe in that it won't happen again.

"I'm sorry." Bruce whispers in a broken voice that is so much worse than having him break shit. It's not like anything in the house can be considered valuable. Even the electronics are an easy fix when it comes to Tony and the magic he can work on machines."I'm so, so sorry. Natash-"

Natasha bites out something angry and savage in Russian that cuts Bruce off. She glares at him, and Steve can understand the rage, the helplessness they share that makes her so unspeakably angry. Natasha makes a sharp about face and heads towards the punching bag with a single minded intensity. Muttering in russian to accent every vicious kick and merciless punch. She is ignoring them pointedly, at least at first.

But after a few minutes they might as well cease to exist.

It's how Natasha breaks. In stark counterpoint to Bruce's volatile release of emotion Natasha shatters in precision. Machine like, all that exists is her target, and Steve might actually find it in himself to pity anyone who would might fall prey to her while she's like this.

He's not a mind reader, he can't possibly know what goes on in her mind when she's attacking the punching bag, he would never be so cruel as to ask, but the blank look on her face, despite what he has always assumed to be muttered obscenities, never fails to send a shiver down his spine.

At the end of the day the how and the why of it don't matter. He hates seeing them like this. It's a sharp ache just under his breastbone that never goes away. Sometimes, when they're together, and there's laughter some of it fades. Sometimes numbing to the point where he can't quite feel it for days. But having one of them lose it makes it feel like a fresh wound. It's awful, seeing people he loves so miserable and knowing, the knowledge bone deep, that there is nothing he can do to help.

Clint climbs in through the window and pauses, face falling at the sight of Natasha beating the punching bag. He doesn't say anything, but Steve knows the same quiet helpless misery is reflected on his face. He joins them on the mattress, spotting Bruce's bruises and throwing a companionable arm around his shoulder.

The three of them watch as Natasha seems to fade into nothing more than painfully precise violence and wish desperately that there was something they could do to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has not been a whole other year so I am considering that progress. This story is a total anghst bomb and insanely difficult because of it. An angst writer I am not, but I remain commited to finishing this, and we are getting close to a part that suspiciously reeks of actual plot, so that should help.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently on a Tony stark kick which translates into an avengers kick which ended up as this fic. What do you guys think? I don't think I've never seen tony poor in fanfiction, and it's weird writing him that way, so I figured if I could manage it from Steve's pov it would help ( It did.).


End file.
